Young Phantom
by Leigha101
Summary: This is the story of how the phantom got to the Opera Populaire even before he met Madame Giry.
1. Prologue

Young Phantom

**Young Phantom**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera.

Prologue

It was hard for me – even before he was born. I came from a poor family, and somehow I knew I would always never have anything. I grew up in a small farming village outside of Paris; I think it was around ten miles. Eventually I moved to meet my husband who lived on the outskirts of Paris in a slum area. We were married by the standards of the slum. I became pregnant with our first son. By the sight of the child, he left me alone to fend for myself.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Chapter One

"Mother, why?" he asked, almost in tears.

"Haven't you seen how they all look at you?" I hissed in a tone I knew would make him cry. I didn't care. My patience had been used up.

"They will all laugh at me!" he had just started to cry.

"I don't think they can laugh anymore," it was time the child learned reality. Yes, he was crying. I had no sympathy for him. I didn't care. He was ugly; he would live with it for the rest of his little life. I would never feel sorry for him. "Just put it on!" After all, he was the reason my husband left me.

With humility, he put the mask, or the resemblance of such a thing, on his head. It was an old potato sack I had cut holes in. How could I afford something more? He whimpered, not feeling any love from his own mother. I just scoffed. I just couldn't love him. I've seen how many people hate him. I've been influenced to do the same.

It was finally night time. He was humming to himself a little lullaby. He was quite a little singer. I think that is the only part I liked at all about him. No one would ever listen to him because of that horrid face. Oh, how I could hardly look at it. If only I could sell his gift of song to someone people would listen to…that would put a penny in my pocket. Perhaps I cannot sell his gift, but I can sell him!

"Mother, where are you taking me?" asked Erik in his sweet voice. I was still going to tell him the truth.

"We are going to a carnival," I explained bluntly.

"Why would you take me to a carnival?" smart boy, he knew I would never do that – I didn't love him. Now I would really have to tell him the truth. I stopped him, and I stared into his eyes through the sack.

"Look. You are a freak. You are going to be sold off to the carnival's freak show. I need some money, and it seems to be the only thing you are good for," I said, no emotion in my voice. I look heartless, yes, but I don't care for him. However, I was surprised by the boy's reaction. He didn't squeal, scream, kick, or cry. He just kept going with me until we reached the right tent. A man with a long black beard and dirty hands was there.

"What can I do for you?" he grunted.

"I would like to sell a freak," I said with confidence. I pointed to Erik sitting in a corner looking down.

"What's his issue?" asked the bearded man. I went over to remove Erik's mask. The infected redness on the side of his face showed. Beardy flinched, than smiled.

"I'll pay you a decent amount of francs for this one," he said in a cracked voice. I smiled as he handed over the money. He grabbed little Erik by the arm and threw a chain around him. Beardy scoffed and dragged Erik over to what I assumed was a cell. I left swiftly – freak shows scared me.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two – (Now switching to Erik's point of view)

Chapter Two – (Now switching to Erik's point of view)

"Come see the Devil's child!" yelled out the old black bearded man who called himself Edgar. It was time for my show. This was the fifth time today. Edgar pulled off my potato sack. People around the cage laughed loudly, poking me with sticks and metal poles. Some had sharp edges. I was used to the pain. My whole body was filled with sores and scratches. I was hurting inside, but I didn't let it show. I covered my face with my hands, but Edgar always pried me away. In a way I was happy here, away from my mother who had no love for me, thus dumping me here.

Sometimes at night I would allow myself to think of her. I imagined her as a nice person. I knew she loved my singing. It is the only thing I currently try to pursue. Music is the thing that keeps me alive. If it wasn't for music, I would have killed myself. Tonight I could not sing – I could not think of my mother. I would have to put on another show. The crowds must be good now.

I was thrown into my cage in the middle of the freak show area. There were lots of girls. Some of them had ballet slippers. Most of them all made fun of me – there was one girl who I saw cry as they beat on me for the sixth time today. She was the only one who I had ever seen who had compassion on me. At that instant I was compelled to do something drastic – I wanted to escape with her. Edgar came in my cage at that moment – I grabbed a rope someone had left behind. I choked him and hard. Luckily the girl stayed. I ran through the bars of my cage – I was so skinny now.

"Come with me! We shall escape to the opera house!" she cried in a lovely tone of voice. I ran with her, glad to leave my life behind, and I was glad that someone had found me.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

We ran for what seemed like forever through the streets of Paris. Finally we had arrived at a window on the ground behind what looked like to be the opera house she was talking about. She opened it quickly.

"Hurry! Get inside!" squealed the girl. I ran in without hesitation. She closed the window, promising to be down to me very soon. I stood there alone. I looked all around me. There were many candles, none lit, that I could barely see in the darkness. I felt something moist below me as I walked on – I figured some water damage from the recent rain Paris had had. A small glowing speck was coming closer and closer, creating more glowing specks. It was the girl with a candle lighting all the others. Soon I could see a gorgeous, haunting lake. _An underground lake _I mused to myself.

"Do you think you could live here? I could bring you food, and you could grow up here. I hope you can stand music…sometimes you can hear it from down here. I know because it is my underground hiding place when I want to get away from practicing my ballet." She smiled timidly.

"This will be perfect," I said calmly. I sighed in content. We talked for a bit longer until she produced something as white as pearls from under the coat she was wearing. There was a hole at the top, in the shape of an eye. She had brought me a mask.

"I didn't know if this would offend you, but I thought perhaps you would like something better than an old potato sack," she said shyly, unsure of my reaction. I gladly took the white mask. It looked very good on me as I saw in a mirror she had brought. However, that did not fit with my hygienic state.

"Thank you," I whispered softly.

"It was a prop from a past show. No one will know that it's gone," she said. I was silent for a moment. I started to sing – softly at first, then more loudly. It was that lullaby I had composed since I lived with my mother in the slum.

"That is the most gorgeous thing I have ever heard," said the girl, simply enchanted. "One day you will sing that to a very special girl, and she will love you forever." I laughed at how hilarious that sounded, that a girl might one day like me. The way she said _she will love you forever _didn't sound like a stupid fairytale; it felt like she seriously believed it. Perhaps one day…


End file.
